


Photoshopping My Heart

by Wolves_of_Innistrad



Series: Tumblr Teen Wolf ficlets [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Art School, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, POV Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:04:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3644547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolves_of_Innistrad/pseuds/Wolves_of_Innistrad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this idea "I’m a traditional painter who has to take a basic Photoshop class, you’re a graphic design major sitting next to me and getting sucked into helping me out because I’m so terrible at this" AU</p><p>Derek is an art major studying painting, Stiles is a graphic design major who can't believe he is being forced to take basic photoshop classes.  Derek is laughably incompetent with computers.  Hilarity ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Photoshopping My Heart

           Stiles is livid. He stalks into the room, glaring daggers at his fellow classmates, sighing when none of them drop dead from multiple stab wounds. His backpack is slung low on his shoulder, only barely missing a collision with a girl’s head as he flings it to the ground next to the seat with what appears to be the newest model of computer. Of course, that isn’t saying much since it isn’t even a flat screen monitor.

          “Plebeians,” Stiles hisses, eyeing the computer with disdain. Slender fingers press his glasses up over his nose where they are sliding down, settling over the keys next. It only takes a few minutes before he has his screen switched to a better configuration, pulling up a new background and fiddling with anything he can to make this bearable.

          He looks up when he hears the professor come in, rolling his eyes as he sees the streaks of grey in the man’s hair. “I bet he uses Paint at home,” he whispers to the girl next to him, getting only a sneer in return. Shrugging, he turns back to the man, preparing for a boring lecture on a topic he doesn’t need at all. It’s not his fault the school wouldn’t let him test out of this useless class, he’d been using Photoshop for years; since that fateful day he’d realized he could give himself a light saber if he was holding a stick. Of course the school hadn’t taken his impressive portfolio into account, choosing instead to remind him how important the fundamentals were to his major. Stile shad scoffed, flipping to all the ads he’d designed for school dances and such, but alas it was all to no avail.

          Head down, Stiles had surreptitiously slipped in his earbuds as he prepared to drown out the surely monotonous lecture as he worked ahead on the syllabus. By his calculations he could get through most of the first week’s assignments in one class period if he buckled down. All that went out the window when he glanced up and saw another student enter the room.

          The person was a fucking Adonis. Thick, fluffy looking beard, ripped muscles barely contained under a white shirt that, like his face, was littered with flecks of paint. So, an art major he guessed, thanking whatever powers that be for at least giving him something nice to look at in this awful class. His thanks died out a bit though when the man turned towards him, taking the seat right next to him. It wasn’t that Stiles wasn’t looking forward to having a hot guy sit next to him, he’d been hoping for it actually, it’s just that his plans to finish all his work quickly might have just went out the window.

          Only ten minutes later did Stiles find out how right he’d been, except not for the reason he thought. Initially Stiles had worried that the man, Derek, he’d learned during roll call, would be a distraction because of his beauty. Then he’d turned to Stiles, face serious and imploring.

          “Um, how do I turn it on?” he’d asked, pointing at the computer like it was a wild animal.

          At first Stiles laughed, wondering how bad this guy was at flirting that he needed to use such a lame line. That was, until he saw the look of utter confusion and embarrassment on the man’s face and realized that shit, he really didn’t know how to turn a computer on.

          “You, you press the button down on the tower,” he said, trying to stifle a laugh. Hey, even if he wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, he was hot. Maybe a night of hot sex was worth it.

          “Oh good, thanks!” Derek had said, bright smile blindingly sweet as he turned back to the computer. It was only a few seconds before Stiles felt a tap on his shoulder again. “Which one is the tower?”

          “Are you kidding me?” Stiles asked, flabbergasted. The man gave a sheepish smile, Stiles noticing his bunny teeth, and then nodded. “Ok, hold on, lemme just…” he trailed off, reaching down and turning on the computer. His arm brushed over the other’s thigh and he blushed a bit, face going scarlet as he pulled back and set back to his own task.

          Things got back to normal for a while, Stiles already halfway through the work on the night’s project before being pulled from his reverie by Derek, again.

          “Which button opens the Photoshop?” he asked, and Stiles died a little inside. He tried to tell himself that if this guy was really as dim as he looked, and as hot as he looked, then helping him, no matter how inane the work, might be worth it if he got some action out of it. Unfortunately that was easier said than done.

          “Derek, Derek no!” he bit out, scrabbling for the keyboard and pulling it to himself. “How? How did you even save it as a word document?” he asked in exasperation, looking at Derek critically, anger only slightly lessened by the absolutely adorable way Derek was looking at him.

          “I’m not sure, there were so many on the list, I just thought, this is a picture of a doctor, so pic the one that said doc,” Derek answers, and Stiles nearly falls off his chair.

          “That is so wrong on so many levels I’m not sure I have enough time in this class to adequately explain all that was wrong with it,” Stiles retorts, smirking as he tries to salvage Derek’s file. “Wait, you still have it open? Then why didn’t you just save it in another format?”

          “Oh is it still open? I didn’t see it anymore,” he said innocently.

          “It’s… It’s just minimized. Are you from this century? Like, I’m not trying to judge, but have you ever actually used a computer Derek?”

          “My family didn’t own a computer. Only ever used them at the library, and even then very rarely.”

          “That, that explains so much,” Stiles sighs, passing the keyboard and mouse back. “There, it’s fixed now. Just, save it as psd file, or a png or even like, a tiff or jpg if you have to, but the compression on the jpg might not be great so see what the teacher actually wants you to use,” he said. Looking back over he noticed Derek was staring at him. “What?”

          “Where you just speaking English right now?” Derek asks, eyebrows arching up, nearly combining with his hairline.

          Stiles stops, quietly trying to explain what he meant before the teacher comes over and he has to stop, pushing his chair away. After a few more adjustments he has his work for the night finished. It’s not as much as he thought he’d get done, but then again with how Derek was practically plastered to his side all night he was lucky to get anything done at all.

          As he stood up, red hoodie slipping over his head and backpack pulled up tight, he was stopped by Derek, smiling delightedly. “Hey, thanks for the help. I’m, well, not very good with computers as you can see,” he says, smiling almost nervously. “I didn’t think I’d have to actually take any digital art classes so, yeah,” he shrugs, laughing a bit, the noise making Stiles knees weak a bit. “I hope I wasn’t a bother?”

          “No, no bother. There was no bother at all,” Stiles assures him a bit too hastily. “I mean, it’s not like I had anything to do in this class anyway, you’d have to be a moron not to know how to work Photoshop,” he says lightly, then realizes how far his foot just went into his mouth. “I, wait, I meant…” he starts, watching Derek’s face fall and turn away.

          “Thanks for the help Stiles,” he says, tersely, smile long gone, replaced with a brooding scowl. Turning on his heel, Derek marches out of the room, leaving Stiles to wallow in his own idiocy.

* * *

 

          By the next class Derek has conveniently chosen another seat to sit in. Stiles tells himself he doesn’t mind, sitting there aggressively clicking to copy paste spots to remove a blemish on the photo they are supposed to be working on. After a few minutes he drags his eyes away from Derek to find he’s pretty much removed the poor woman’s entire mouth. Chuckling to himself, he starts over and quickly finishes it. Once he’s done he glances back over at Derek’s screen and balks, seeing a mess of colors all over the photo, Derek apparently having used the paintbrush tool instead of clone stamp and simply marking over the blemishes.

          With a groan Stiles’ head falls to the keys, making a clacking noise as it does. His fingers itch to go over and just fix everything wrong with Derek’s project, but he doesn’t. Firstly because Derek thinks he’s an asshole which, well, isn’t entirely inaccurate but he can be nice sometimes. And second, well, Derek does need to learn and it’s not like Stiles could do all his work for him. At least, not that poorly to make it believable. So he trudges through the class, week after week watching as Derek falls more and more behind his fellow students, while Stiles is already close to finished with all his assignments for the semester.

* * *

 

          Their interaction has been nil since that first night, so Stiles is surprised when, out of the blue, Derek sits down at his table during lunch, eyebrows knit together in frustration like it’s physically paining him to see Stiles. “Can I sit here?” he grits out, and Stiles has to bite back a smile because grumpy Derek is adorable.

          “Sure, no one else is sitting there,” he says, grabbing another curly fry and shoving it in his mouth, forcing Derek to be the one who talks first.

          For his part, Derek looks a bit remorseful, which is odd considering Stiles had been the one who’d acted like a jerk towards him. “Look, I know you think I’m an idiot and can’t work a computer to save my life, well, the last part really is mostly true,” he starts, staring at him in concentration. “But if I don’t pass this class I have to retake it and I doubt anyone else as talented as you will be there next time so could you please help me so I don’t fail?”

          His mouth hangs open, a curly fry threatening to fall out of it before he shuts it again and thinks. Derek is being sincere and he definitely doesn’t have anything else to do in the class. “OK, fine, I’ll do it, on one condition.”

          Derek looks simultaneously relieved and a bit worried about what the condition is, but he nods his assent anyway. “And that is?”

          “Accept my apology for being an absolute pompous dickwad that first night and let me buy you a coffee after class?” Stiles asks in a rush, actually not sure where the last part came from. Ok, he has a bit of an idea where it came from, but it hadn’t been what he’d intended to say before his mouth ran away with that sentence.

          The look on Derek’s face is priceless, all shocked puppy confusion before slowly melting into this gorgeous smile. It’s a smile that warms Stiles’ heart, like it starts in Derek’s heart and just works its way out through his eyes, his teeth, whole body exuding happiness. It makes Stiles a bit dizzy really. “I’d like that,” he says, and even his thick beard can’t hide the hint of red darkening his cheeks as he looks away, smiling softer now. “Thanks,” he says, eyes coming back up to meet Stiles’ own.

          “It’s no problem. Besides, who doesn’t want to spend time with a hunky, brooding art student with a smile like that,” he says, then realizes that was not a private thought. Derek smiles harder, blush spreading to the tips of his ears, matching his red tie and cardigan combo he has on, the sleeves of his white button up just barely poking out from underneath.

          “Ok, but seriously, you’ve never owned a computer before? How weird is that?” Stiles asks as they are walking to class, his hand brushing past Derek’s on the way before pressing into his own pocket so he isn’t tempted.

          “Never saw a need. We had a big family library, I just read all the time. Besides, I spend most of my time painting anyway,” Derek replies, a huge canvas bag under one arm, likely a painting.

          “So wait you never…” Stiles laughs to himself, blushing and stopping before he asks that question.

          “Never what?”

          “Never, um, no, never mind its way personal and stupid.”

          “Come on, ask me.”

          “Ok, ok, fine,” Stile relents, stopping by a tree and smirking. “You’ve never looked at porn online then?”

          Now it’s Derek’s turn to go bright red, rubbing at his neck and laughing nervously. “I, no?” he tries, looking abashed. “I have a, uh, very vivid imagination though. Although there was this one time…” he falters, seemingly lost in his memory.

          “What? Tell me!” Stiles harangues, pulling on Derek’s sleeve.

          “Well, I mean, once when I was younger I might have painted this very, very detailed nude. I used references, but it was clearly this guy I liked in our class and well, my parent’s saw it and that’s how they learned I was bi,” he says, shaking his head and laughing at his own misfortune. Stiles laughs all the way to their class, pulling Derek back into the seat next to him and helping him through getting started.

          Now that Derek is back Stiles finds class isn’t so boring anymore, sidling over to whisper jokes into his ear, or offer tips. Then again, it’s usually Derek coming to him all serious, fretting about having deleted an entire layer worth of work or some other false calamity that is readily fixable with a bit of know how.

          By the time class is ending, Stiles almost wishes it could last a bit longer, until he remembers that Derek agreed to get a cup of coffee with him afterwards. They walk out together, heading towards a little coffee house Stiles frequents on late night study parties, not that most of his classes require studying, but the few that do are always killers. As they walk in, he sends out thanks to his advisor for forcing him to take that intro class.

* * *

 

          “Noooo!” Stiles laughs, slapping a hand on the table and jostling their drinks. “They did not do that!”

          “They did, they did!” Derek retorts, smiling and laughing along with him, demeanor jovial and carefree. “They forced me to draw the entire Christmas photo by hand. And don’t even get me started on their little ‘alterations’ to it afterwards.”

          “What did they do?”

          “Well, first Laura wanted her hair to be lighter to reflect that she’d recently died it. Then Cora wanted to be taller. Then my father wanted his tie to be changed to a different color. And remember, this is on roughly fifteen cards that I’ve all drawn by hand. I tried to make the changes, but after the first one it was clearly visible that it wasn’t going to come out like they wanted so I maybe had a bit of fun?”

          “What did you do?” Stiles asks, leaning his entire body into Derek’s space, arms bracing himself on the table like human scaffolding.

          Derek looks shifty now, eyebrows knitting together deviously, a sly smirk playing on his lips. “I made Laura have red hair with green highlights. Then I gave my father the most annoying Christmas tie with these obnoxious snowmen on it and lastly I made Cora have an elf outfit on. Needless to say, that was the last year I was asked to draw our Christmas cards,”

          One loud guffaw later and Stiles is sprawled out on the floor, arms and legs akimbo as he chortles uncontrollably. “Der- Derek!” he laughs, holding his abdomen as taking Derek’s proffered hand to stand back up. “That is, that is devious, I love it!” Once he takes his seat he begins to regale Derek of his own shenanigans with his best friend Scott and how, one fine year, they had played matchmaker for their single parents.

          “Needless to say, my dad and Scott’s mom are now totally dating. On the DL of course,” he hastens to add, not sure why when he doubts Derek will meet them. Or maybe somewhere he does hope that’ll happen, that Derek can meet his friends and family and this could be more than tutoring and a coffee date. He smiles and laughs and the night is an unqualified success.

          “So…” Derek starts, holding a Styrofoam cup in his hands, the remnants of his long cold coffee contained within. “That was… fun,” he said softly, cheeks not as flushed as earlier, but still a tell-tale pink blooming there.

          “Yeah, fun,” Stiles says, a bit dejectedly, worried maybe Derek didn’t enjoy that as much as he did. For him it had been something else, Derek’s easy smiles, cute stories about his family, all of it only making him want more. Stiles had always wanted a big family, but alas for many years it had been just him and his father. Derek though, he had a veritable cornucopia of family members that always seemed to be at his house from how he spoke. And they were all spoken of fondly, not derisively like most people did, even when Derek retold stories of his utter embarrassment at their hands.

          “Don’t get me wrong, this was a great d-date, it was,” Derek begins, turning to Stiles as he stops, moves down to take his hand. “I’m actually shit at dates, but this was good. I… I’ve not had the greatest track record with dating people and, if I’m being honest, you’re the first guy that’s ever asked me out so I’m not really, um, sure about how to go about this.”

          “Hey man, you’re the first guy to ever really go out with me either. I mean, I’ve asked, trust me, countless times. Guys and girls, but never got anywhere,” he laughed, biting his lips and looking up at Derek with honeyed eyes. “But I’m glad you said yes, even if I kind of tricked you into it.”

          “You didn’t need to trick me. I find you very… Attractive as well. Actually, that was one thing I wanted to ask you after staring at all those moles all night,” he said slowly, fingertips reaching up to trace a few across Stiles’ cheek, sending shivers through them both. “Could I draw you? Not tonight, but sometime?”

          “Draw me like one of your French girls Derek,” Stiles says, leaning faux seductively against a tree.

          “No French girls, not again,” he says, and there’s sadness behind his eyes, just a blink and you’ll miss it, but he recovers quickly. “So that’s a yes then?”

          “Of course Derek. Now, I must ask though,” he starts, closing in on Derek, pupils dilated and lips smirking, “will there be nudity in these drawings?”

          “Oh, I should think. What is an artist without his nudes?”

          “Quite a boon for you, eh?” he says, lifting his eyebrows in a mirror of Derek’s.

          “I assure you it’s all in the interest of artistic merit.”

          “All?”

          “Mostly. Probably. At least 10% artistic merit,” Derek amends as Stiles eyes him with each word.

          “Now that’s what I like to hear,” he says and then, without thinking, he reaches over and grabs that tie, pulling Derek in for a kiss. It’s quick and messy and maybe a bit awkward, but it’s all them. “Let’s try that again,” he adds, moving in and this time Derek responds in kind, one arm wrapped around Stiles’ waist drawing him in, the other cupping his face.

          “How’s that for a first kiss?” Stiles asks, all cocky bravado.

          “I’d give it an 8 out of 10,” Derek says with an equally egoistic smirk. “But we can work on that, I’m sure I can bring you up to a solid 10.” Stiles squawks indignantly, but his protests are drowned out by Derek’s lips pressing against his anew, and after that Stiles kind of loses the will to argue. They can do that later.

* * *

 

          In the end Derek gets a low B, no amount of Stiles’ carrying him through the class able to make up for his abysmal first few weeks. Then again, Derek’s tutoring often leads to Derek on his knees in one way or another, so, in Stiles mind, he really only has himself to blame. Derek does get around to drawing Stiles in the nude, and afterwards spends hours connecting the dots of his skin with his tongue, much to Stiles delight.

          A few months later, waking up to see himself and Derek covered in edible body paint, he thinks back to that first day, how upset he’d been to have to repeat things he already knew. Stiles had been certain he couldn’t learn anything in that class, but, in the end, he had taken a few lessons away from it. Most importantly, he’d learned that an adorable man with paint speckled clothes and no idea how to use a computer ended up being his perfect match. He sends his Advisor a drawing Derek did of them both, with some rather amusing additions Stiles added on his computer, thanking her for getting them together. She may not understand, but it’s alright, because Derek and Stiles know who they have to thank for their happiness, and that’s all that matters to them.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic idea came from a list of AU ideas you can find [here.](http://tofixtheshadows.tumblr.com/post/114966916226)
> 
> As always, thanks to my Wonderful Readers for the kudos and comments!
> 
> p.s. Enjoy that low-key Bottom!Derek mention at the end!


End file.
